


Subductus

by kingmorsluciscaelum



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Confessional, Corruption, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Priest Kink, Religious Guilt, Sex Toys, Virginity, hierophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 12:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmorsluciscaelum/pseuds/kingmorsluciscaelum
Summary: Father Nero has been having very impure thoughts about the new outsider in the village. He used to have ways of dealing with these sorts of thoughts, with these sorts of feelings, but it’s just not enough.





	Subductus

_Forgive me Father, for I have sinned._

The Priest in the confessional glanced across the way, to the screen, and recognized the outline of the person there, and the tone of their voice.

“… Father Nero?” The Priest spoke in a low tone. It was a surprise to hear Nero of all people, sitting here in the confessional, but it would not be the first time he came here of all places.

“It’s been a long time.” Nero says – not since he confessed, no, he confessed as often as he could, but it has been a long time since he _sought out_ confession, since he sought out forgiveness from someone. “… Father Credo.” He says in a careful voice.

Credo placed his hand upon the wall, leaning close to the screen. They couldn’t see through it, but they recognized each other’s voices. It had been long since they spoke, since Nero moved to his own parish far away from their hometown. He enjoyed his freedom, and his town, and the people, but Nero knew deep in his heart that a problem was arising. This was always what was going to happen, being cut off from his family, cut off from women, but even cut off from other Priests, being afraid of forming friendships, only to be rejected, to be sent away.

“It has been four weeks since I last confessed.” Nero murmured. Credo can tell he is kneeling, hands folded, but his outline is thin in the curtain between them.

Credo did as usual, opening with a scripture, and Nero, kneeling, shut his eyes and bowed his head and listened to it, taking in the words which Credo said, knowing they felt ironically fitting.

“What is it you wish to confess?”

“… Several things, father.” Nero’s voice is low, trembling, clearly upset.

Silence. It tells Nero it’s fine to continue.

“I…” Nero murmured, and his face flushes red and he’s grateful Credo cannot see him in this state. “I have…”

He’s worded it a million times in his head, but finally being here, before Credo, makes it all so painfully real and nerve wracking.

“I have met someone.” Nero started. _I met a man. _He decides to omit that.

Credo stays silent.

“I have… had inappropriate thoughts.” Nero confessed, his voice dreadfully quiet, Credo had to strain to hear it.

Oh, Nero remembers it all happening so fast.

That first time he helped Dante. Invited him into the chapel, spoke to him long and hard about Sparda, as Dante would drill him with questions, and laugh answers off, how he would get smart, and Nero admittedly got smart with him too, dry wit rising out of his slight irritation. At first, he truly disliked Dante. Another outsider, another menace who merely wanted to make fun, who wanted to tease and take advantage.

Yet Nero reminded himself to be kind. To do as Sparda would want him to do. He fed Dante, gave him warm drinks when he showed, cleaned his clothes, offered him a place to stay. And he accepted. Nero let Dante sleep in his bedroom, in the parish, and he slept on the armchair. His discomfort showed, but he tried to not let it show on his face.

Dante thanked him for that. For having a place to stay. It was a nice change of pace, he said, to be wanted somewhere.

At first, Nero didn’t want him there. For a long time he was tired of Dante’s probing questions and wished he’d be silent. The more they talked, the more Nero enjoyed it, the less critical Dante was. He was more dry wit and smiles. He had a nice smile, a bit too cocky, but something warm about it.

He noticed Nero growing tired and sore from sleeping on the armchair, always rolling his shoulders and popping the aching bones in his neck.

It was casual thing, he knows it, but it marked him deep inside.

Dante’s hands were on his shoulders, suddenly, massaging Nero’s back, and he shuddered and nearly pushed Dante away, but in an instant he melted. The touch was deep and sore, but good at the same time. Dante ran his hand down Nero’s back.

They were large, warm hands.

Nero still feels those hands, squeezing his back, running up and down his spine, at first, rough, the way Dante massaged, and then slow, slower, sensual.

It wasn’t long before his mind was haunted by the feeling of hands all over him. His dreams filled with his naked body instead of his clothed self, those hands no longer on his back anymore, but between his thighs, sliding up his stomach, his chest, his throat.

He feels them on his throat, squeezing, until it hurts.

Until it feels good.

Nero gasps, bringing himself out of that fantasy once again, feeling guilt sink in his stomach like a lead anchor once again, sinking and sinking, anxiety pooling not because of the sinking, but of never knowing when it would end.

“I…” This confession, this one is what he fears most, what he thinks he is too afraid to tell the other Priest, so he came all the way back to the capitol, just to see Credo, just to talk to his brother, just so he could feel safe in his confessing. “I’ve… touched myself.” He choked on his words. “… Inappropriately.” He bows his head, face bright crimson, Nero’s forehead touching his clasped hands.

The first time he’d done it in years.

He had it pressed into his brain. Distract himself. Chase away the thoughts. Get fresh air, go out for a walk, eat some food, take a cold shower. Of course, he slipped up, some time in college, before he was a priest, jerking himself off to his hearts content thinking it’ll make him feel good, as if he could get it all out of his system before his seminary and theology classes were over, and then, finally, he could dedicate himself to his cause fully. It didn’t help. It just made him feel guilty. He remembers that well.

This time, it as somehow worse. It was like the very touch of Dante’s hands rocked him to his core, ruined his body, his flesh injected with sin. It burned. It burned. And the only cure was to touch it again.

It was filthy. In his small little bathroom, Nero sat with the shower hitting his body, cold water, ice cold, so cold it made him shiver, but that only made him curl up, only made his hands dive between his thighs, his hands shamefully grasping at that pathetic, aching prick, and he finally gave himself relief after five years of not daring to touch himself there.

He nearly screamed when he came, biting his fist hard to stifle it, even though nobody was around to hear it. He cried, he sobbed, guilt lodging itself in his throat and his eyes and his soul, and yet he did it again. He imagined Dante’s hands, rough, callous, but soft, and intimate. He feels more guilt, not knowing if Dante liked him, not knowing if Dante even meant anything by it. It was a massage. A massage from guilt, guilt that Nero was sore and sleepless and tired, and now he was all of those things for completely wrong reasons.

“Nero? …”

Nero sucks in his breath, realizing he’s crying again.

“Forgive me.” He whispered.

“It’s all right… this was… weighing on you a lot.” Credo replied. “There are tissues, on the left.”

Nero glanced, grasping the box that sat in a small pocket beside the chair and he took one and dabbed his face and his nose.

Credo went through the usual pardons, he told Nero that he knew he sinned, he knew he’d done wrong. He asked Nero if he broke his vow of chastity.

“No.” Nero replied, confident in that at least. “Only… fantasies. I haven’t gotten intimate with anyone.”

He knew that was hanging by a thread.

Because if he feared Dante didn’t like him, that was quickly debunked.

Dante massaged him again, and this time he leaned over and pressed his lips on Nero’s neck. Was it a kiss? Nero couldn’t tell. It felt so languid and casual he could imagine it was simply Dante resting his head there. If not for the obvious feeling of lips on his neck, on his pulse, and Dante’s hands running down his sides.

Dante grabbed his hips hard. He whispered soft breath on his neck. Nero buried his face in the bed and then swiftly kicked him away. He nearly shouted, but instead his reaction is silent, terrified, and Dante’s playful nature drops to a serious one, a concerned one, that sees fear in Nero’s eyes.

We cannot, don’t do that… please… don’t touch me.

But I like touching you.

I can’t be touched like that.

What? You can’t handle it?

It’s against my vows.

We’re not having sex. We’re just touching each other. That’s all.

Even that is…

Not allowed? Well why don’t you touch yourself then?

That is also not allowed, you know that.

That didn’t stop you in the shower.

Nero’s cheeks burn red hot with shame, even in the memory of it, the very idea that Dante heard him, heard his filthy acts in the shower and how… how he was so happy he heard it. How Dante didn’t care and didn’t judge him, and he didn’t feel like a burden, like an anchor, he saw Dante’s smile and heard his laughter, and Dante told him he had a beautiful moan when he didn’t stifle it, and Nero didn’t feel heavy. He felt light. He felt free.

Dante had only ever seen him in his cassock, pure white, with gold bands around his neck as a collar, and around his wrists. His lizard like hand once had claws. Now it was mostly scales that were sewn tight. His hand was declawed long ago. His hand was soaked in holy water over and over, until it burned no more. That hand he kept in a glove, protecting it from sight.

When he finally undressed for Dante, he tried to keep that arm covered.

Dante carefully peeled the sleeve off, and gasped a little, he knew how wrong it looked, surgical scars, the scales removed, the hard blue claws missing, as well as the sharp bit of blue that had been on his forearm. It was deformed, he could hardly feel it. Yet when Dante grasped it, he felt it wasn’t numb. It glowed again. Dante smiled at that. Told Nero he was like him.

He wasn’t alone.

He uses that arm to cover his mouth, the other, more human hand, he strokes his cock with. He practically covered his entire face. He couldn’t dare look at Dante, but Dante sat in his desk chair, straddling the back of the chair, leaning on the back cushion, and watching with rapt attention as Nero stroked himself to release.

What do you think of? When you do it?

… I think of you. Touching me.

Oh… How sweet.

Dante genuinely seemed touched at that. He watched, but knew that Nero would panic if they touched each other, so he made no moves. He just watched Nero, and Nero fantasized about what Dante could do to him, with Dante as his audience, Dante groaned when Nero moaned his name. Dante… Dante… Dante…

“Nero?”

Nero cleared his head again. He was too distracted.

“Nero?”

“Yes?” Nero raised his head.

“Is there anything else you wish to talk about?”

“… No. That was the thing that weighed on me most… I… I didn’t want to tell someone else. I wanted to come to you… Credo.”

“… I understand. But if you feel guilt, you should know that all of us will help you. Any Priest. Regardless of who they are.”

Nero knew that wasn’t true. Credo didn’t know Dante, and that priest did. That priest knew that Dante was housed in the village across from Nero’s home. That Priest still believed that Dante slept in the living room, and Nero in the bedroom, and not that they wrapped themselves in each other’s arms and slept together at night. That Priest thought Dante only ever saw Nero in his cassock, and not fully nude, his devil bringer hand out for Dante to see. That Priest didn’t know that they talked deeply of Sparda, that while Sparda looked like a demon it was a sin for them to look that way, it was a mark of a devil, the most unholy of things. Dante showed him horns, but unlike his arm, Dante could take them away. Nobody knew their long and complex talks about Sparda, how Dante laughed at him, and amused himself in the teachings of Sparda, but never said much more than that.

“Well you have confessed, you have laid your sins bare, and you have no wish to repeat them—”

_Oh, Credo. But I do._

_Repeat them over and over and over again._

Smoke the whole pack until he got sick of it.

“In which case… are you sorry for all the sins in your life and for having offended God?”

Nero nodded, then verbally said. “Yes.”

Credo nodded his head. He drew a shape in the air. Murmuring some words. “Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis…” He goes on, offering an ‘Amen’ and Nero responds as well with a pitiful Amen.

Credo beckons him out of the confession, and he exits, head bowed, and he glances around, knowing he cannot embrace his own brother, the Code of Conduct for the Priests were such. It aches him even more. Knowing the sin it was brought on by mere embrace, by this ache, to see his brother and know he cannot embrace him anymore. To have missed him so dearly yet know he can’t be honest. He bows his head lowly. He thanks Credo for his time.

The Priest is busy. Still he asks that Nero come by that night so that they may have dinner. Nero contemplates it, and agrees. He will be staying the night in town. Credo asks him to stay the night with him, but he’s already paid for his room, so Credo lets it go. He tells Nero not to be ashamed, that the Grace of Sparda is with him, since he knows better, and knows not to do it again, and those words, which Nero knows should make him feel lighter, only makes him sink deeper into guilt.

He knows better. He knows not to do it again.

That doesn’t mean he will obey.

* * *

It snatches him so fast, so quick, that shameful, disgusting sin, he feels in a literal honey trap, stuck, in something sticky and sweet and so sinful and dangerous all at the same time.

There was another reason he came into town.

Dante mentioned how the capitol had so much more tech, so much more going on, so much more to do, than the little village Nero was exiled to serve in. He suggested getting Nero something to help with the relief, even though his hand was good, after a while, it would get boring. Nero shrugged off the suggestion of pornography, the last thing he needed was someone finding it in his cottage.

Dante tells him to relax, and while he catches up with Father Credo, he’ll do the shopping for him. It worries Nero, unsure of what he’ll buy, but at the same time, he’s excited. His stomach twists, his guilt felt lifted a bit, hearing Credo’s words, and all the same it grows heavier, knowing full well it is a lie.

Dante has a filthy mind. Nero didn’t need to say that for it to be known. He’d never seen some of these things. A vibrating bullet, anal beads, a regular full-sized vibrator. He’d never dare to have anything inside himself in the past, part fear of someone knowing, part fear that he couldn’t handle it; he knew very well that it could be done though.

“I’m surprised you know what a prostate is.” Dante replied.

“We take vows in poverty, not mental poverty.”

Dante chuckled. “Oh really? Can’t say I’m the same. Is there a parable about the prostate in the bible?”

“I did go to college you know.” Nero told him.

“Good, then show me where yours is, _doctor_.”

In honesty, he’d never done anything like this. Nero knew Dante would help him, it was near humiliating at first, cleaning himself out from the inside, enemas, gloves, it all felt like the worst doctors exam of his life, not because of pain, but the humiliating bluntness of it all, combine with Dante’s embarrassing ramblings about having a cute ass and being so pink inside.

Then Dante curls his fingers, and Nero nearly sees stars as his legs buckle. Dante catches him with his free arm, guiding him to his knees on the floor of the shower, letting warm water spray them both. Dante chuckled so darkly in his ear.

“Found it?”

After that Dante strips the glove off, washing his hands and drying himself off. He tells Nero to ‘do whatever he needs to get ready’ and that he’ll wait in the bedroom.

Nero feels his face flushing red, he puts a glove on his human hand, and carefully plunges his fingers inside, trying to curl his fingers the way Dante did. He jolted when he brushed against that spot, but he certainly didn’t hit it as hard as Dante could. He shivered. It feels filthy. So, so filthy. And he wants it. He stepped out, glove still on, it feels weird to have his hand gloved but not the ugly deformed one covered in scales.

Dante is sitting in an armchair pushed by the bed. He’s got his clothes back on, except for a shirt, and his pants are undone, his hardon bulging out his underwear. He even put his boots back on. He’s holding that black bag, the one that hid whatever the person had bought, common to see in Fortuna where even free people still felt ashamed of things like this.

He pulls out that bullet vibrator first, and Nero is genuinely relieved, that one is the least scary to look at.

“Come here… _Father_.”

Nero shivered. He still remembers the first time they introduced themselves.

I’m Dante. You must be Father Nero… You’re a bit young for a Priest, don’t you think?

You’re a bit old for a Hunter, don’t you think?

They both managed to laugh at that. It felt casual.

Nero trembles now, sliding into the bed, pulling the bedsheets over his naked body. Dante doesn’t stop him, he does it often, hiding himself, someone who dressed from neck to ankles, Dante could understand why he’d be so shy.

“Here.” Dante offered that small plastic vibrator out. It’s about the size of Dante’s thumb, and after their very thorough time in the shower, Nero is more than aware that that can fit inside him.

A deep sigh.

“Take your time.” Dante remarked, smiling, chin resting on his fist while he leans on the armrest.

God, Nero drinks in the sight of the hunter sitting there with his legs spread, his cock so hard it strains against the fabric, a damp spot of precum on his underwear.

Nero wants to slide out of bed, onto his knees, get his mouth on that cock, suck on it through the fabric, lave his tongue over it and finally free it and taste it.

He slips the bullet vibe inside, and pushes with two fingers, and winced and squirmed.

Oh, how Dante wanted to push it inside Nero with his own fingers. He wanted to stir him up inside, make him come over and over, watch him go mad. Nero ached from the slightest touches. Dante loved it. He never thought much of virgins, he hardly believed in the concept of virginity, it seemed more like a church thing than anything. The better term was just inexperience. Still. Nero’s inexperience is… alluring. Only now he finally realizes the power he has, knowledge that some wise priest lacked.

Nero always looked so worn, eyes narrow, expression worn stretched over his face as he desperately tried to offer his feelings to those who dumped their burdens on him. It was here, when he whimpered and squirmed and struggled to simply push his own fingers inside himself, when he grasped the sheets and moaned, did that all melt away, into some young helpless thing, eager for something new, for something good.

“I-it’s in…” Nero’s legs are trembling under the blankets, Dante can see it. He leans over on the armchair, and grasp the blankets, pulling them up, exposing Nero’s legs.

“Let me see.” Dante said. “… May I?”

He knows how shy Nero is, but he tries to calm him, strokes the hair of his leg, small slow circles, his white hair blends in on his pale legs. Always dressed. Never sees any sun. He fantasized Nero laying nude on a beach in Fortuna, the sun kissing that lovely pale flesh and dyeing it just the lightest color of tan.

Nero works up the courage, his leg leaning on Dante’s petting, and carefully he gathers the blankets up to expose his legs and crotch.

“… Spread your legs.” Dante commanded.

Nero did.

Ah. Perfect.

The toy was swallowed up, like Nero said, there’s only that small little cord coming out from the vibrator, to help pull it out later. He clenches, Dante watches his muscles tighten, his hips roll, his body admits that he’s is aching.

“How’s it feel?”

“… Weird.” Nero admitted. “… A good weird.”

Dante chuckled. “Good. That’s good…” He finally dived his hand into his pocket, and fished out a sleek black remote. “You ready?”

Nero blinked.

Dante pulled a pillow from the empty side of the bed and put it on Nero’s chest.

“Here. Bite down, and try not to shout.” Dante reminded him.

“… Right.” Nero took his demonic hand, grasping the pillow with his numb fingertips. “… All right.” He exhaled, glancing down at his mangled scaly arm, and shut his eyes before burying his face in the pillow.

“… You look so beautiful, _Father_.”

Nero can’t respond. He jolts forward, almost jackknifing off the bed as he buries the pillow in his face with both hands. Electricity slammed into him, up his spine, and shot right into his skull, scrambling his brain. He screamed, his cock already rock hard, biting into the pillow, his dull broken claws of his devil hand scratching the pillow sheet open, pillow stuffing spilling out. Suddenly the shock subsides, but doesn’t die, Nero catches his breath, looking down at himself and realizing he’d cum without even being touched, it stains his stomach, some of the pillow, and his thighs.

“Wow.” Dante huffed. He put a hand on Nero’s knee before remembering not to do that, and pulled away, just trying to get a good look at Nero. “That was amazing.” He chuckled through his praise. “Next time I’ll build up to that… Now you know what it feels like on high.”

He strokes Nero’s leg, and despite coming down from a ferociously reached high, his body aches more for Dante’s touch than for that vibration. He wants both. He wants to feel Dante, he wants to feel the vibrator, he wants to feel heat and skin and mouths together, cocks rubbed against each other.

He fantasizes, not realizing he’s gasping like crazy. His limbs are heavy, his body is trembling, sweat beading on his skin, slick and shiny in the dimness of the lamplight. Curtains drawn, door shut, room warm with just the two of them in it.

Nero lay naked on his bed, legs spread, knees up, his back flat on the bedding, both hands grasping fistfuls of his blankets.

Dante turned the knob on the remote. Gentle. Feather light touch.

“Ahn…” Nero shut his eyes, a full body roll, turning into little hip rolls. His body is aching for touch. Dante’s hand on his leg is not enough. He endures it, rolling his hips up and humping at empty air.

“That’s it…” Dante leaned over the bed, slowly massaging Nero’s legs. Both hands running up and down his shins, squeezing, massaging his calf muscles as well.

Nero moaned. The pleasure turned to luxury. The feeling of someone touching his aching body, the aching joints, the tightness in his muscles. Nero reached down, stroking his limp cock, spreading his legs wider, giving Dante a better view as he stroked himself, trying to get it hard again.

“You’re doing so well.” Dante cooed. “You’re doing well for your first vibrator… Take it nice and slow.”

Nero didn’t want it slow. He’d never had it before, but he wanted it harder than this. Harder than a gentle touch and soft low vibrations. He trembled at the sensation, hand slowly pumping his cock, eyes shut tight, that small little thing having an insane amount of power to roar to life inside him the way it does. He only now had something inside him before, for the first time, and already he wanted something bigger, already he wanted it fast and hard and to drive him to tears if it could.

“Please…” Nero choked, and he felt a stray tear run down his face. “More…”

Dante didn’t need to be asked twice. He clicks the vibrator remote, just a bit higher, the buzzing is quiet, he goes all off of Nero’s bodily reaction, his jolt, his twitching cock, his low, sultry, velvet moans as he finally experiences this for the first time.

Dante remembers something Nero told him about. How some people had erotic feelings towards priests, towards nuns, some desire to corrupt, some desire to have the unattainable, to make one so devoted to celibacy feel… irresistible.

He had to admit, at first the idea sounded totally stupid, to sit around with someone inexperienced and teach them everything. But… these results were definitely changing his mind.

Dante turns the vibrator on full for one second, and back down to low.

Nero jerked, his devil hand clasps over his mouth as he bites into those scales.

“Oops.” Dante whispered with a faint smile.

Nero is gasping, still rubbing his aching prick, and Dante wonders if he should tell him how hard it is to cum twice in a row, but for now he just enjoys that cute moaning and writhing, Nero finally opening his glistening pretty wet eyes and choking out. “Please… do that again…”

Oh. Dante smiled. “All right.”

He didn’t set it to high, just a medium setting, watching Nero’s hips shift and jerk and finally get some frantic but eager pace. He looks like he’d be perfect at riding someone’s cock. Nero’s thumb clumsily swipes the tip of his dick, the way Dante told him, and he groans, falling back on the bed, swiping, over and over, precum dots the very tip and smears all over the head of his cock.

“Good. Keep going.”

Nero has no mind to even tell Dante something sarcastic, to tell him ‘oh I was just thinking of stopping’ he’s too lost in the act. It’s shameful, and so painfully good. He’s never had something like this in all his life. He’s so desperate for pleasure, so desperate for Dante’s touch, for Dante’s voice, for his mouth, for his cock.

Nero opened his eyes, looking over at Dante, his hand at his prick, and then he cast his gaze towards Dante’s own cock.

“… Show me.” Nero gasped. “Do it… do it with me…”

“…” Dante smiled. “All right. Pleasure loves company.”

Nero was pretty sure it was misery, but he didn’t dare correct Dante – he wanted Dante to be right anyway, at least this time.

He watched Dante, slowly, far too slowly, rolling that tight fabric down, and finally pulling out his cock. His pubic hair seems to be a shade lighter than his hair, and it’s groomed and trimmed more than Nero’s. Dante is uncut, he’s hard, achingly hard, he can see it, bright red, near purpling at the tip. He shuddered. Vile thoughts race in his mind, Dante slamming that thing deep into his body, with that vibrator as well, feeling cum inside his body at the same time, feeling that vibration stir it inside him—

Nero shut his eyes, that fantasy taking him away from any other thoughts he could possibly have. He licked his lips, imagined Dante’s cock in his mouth, imagined his hands tied behind his back, he remembered Dante’s filthy words about bondage, people who get off on being restrained, about tying his wrists with cincture and using his anointed oils as lube—

He cried out, cum hitting his stomach again, pitiful drips sliding down his skin, as he gasps for air.

Dante smiles, he’s still stroking his cock, slow and sensual, as if a hand could somehow make love then Dante’s knew how. He leaned over, taking the towel from the bathroom and wiping Nero off. Nero just lay panting in the bed, not daring to ask Dante to turn that toy off.

It’s Dante’s turn now, and Nero panted, clutching the pillow at his chest, as he watches Dante shut his eyes, and fully throw himself into pleasure as he strokes himself off, swiping the head with his thumb, sliding his hand from the base of his cock up, sliding and exposing the pink of his cock from under the foreskin. He spins a slow and careful circle around the tip.

Nero watched, murmuring something under his breath.

Dante opened his eyes. “Hmm?”

“… C-cum on me.” Nero asked, his question so careful and embarrassed all the same.

“You want me too?” Dante smiled. “Where?”

Nero shifted, legs spread, gesturing to his already messy stomach.

Dante smiled, he leaned over Nero, stroking himself off, but not touching the priest, looming over him, and Nero panted, and buried his face in a pillow as he watched eagerly. He gazed at Dante, the heat in his eyes, the lust in them, his face flushes red, just seeing how Dante looks at him.

“You have beautiful eyes…”

Nero blinked his long eyelashes, face buried against his pillow.

Dante shuts his eyes, he groans, and Nero feels something hot hit his stomach, drip along his navel, and he watches Dante, his expression going from passion to bliss to concentrating, his blue eyes open, sharp electric blue, glancing over Nero, feeling his cum dribble out. He gasped, and chuckled that low throaty laugh in his breaths, and finally sat back down, slumped in his chair.

“Sheesh…” He fumbles for the remote he left on the nightstand, and clicks it off. Nero feels a mix between relief and disappointment. He needed the break, but he wanted more so badly.

His hand runs across his stomach, feeling that stickiness, coating his fingers in it, and Nero licks some of it off his finger. He makes a face that makes Dante laugh.

“Not exactly the best taste in the world.” Dante remarked, breathy voice, both of them tired, and spent.

“No…” Nero agreed.

“… So what’s the plan? We gonna do this all night? Don’t want you to pass out.”

Nero panted, thinking it through. “… No. I have dinner.”

“Credo?” Dante asked.

“Yeah… Do you… want to go?”

Dante laughed.

“Really? You want to invite me? On purpose?”

“You won’t embarrass me, will you?”

“Not unless it turns you on.”

“I thought free food would override your desire to ruin everything.”

“Depends if it’s good.”

“It should be. He and Kyrie always cook something nice.”

Dante leaned his chin on his hand and hummed. “Well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, would it? How much time do we have?”

“Until sunset.”

Dante smiled.

Nero jolted when the toy roared to life once again inside him.

“Plenty of time.”

* * *

Credo is a tall man. A bit taller than both Nero and Credo, if only by a little bit. Kyrie too is tall, nearly the same height as Nero. They all look nothing really alike. Kyrie keeps her hair covered, but Dante can see from the visible strands and her eyebrows that they’re ginger orange, Credo is more brunet, he has a goatee like beard on his chin, and Nero, like himself, is pure white. Kyrie is dressed in a nun’s outfit, white sleeves, grey around the waist and skirt. Credo is dressed in white, and Nero too is dressed in his usual cassock, Dante the only one in an casual clothes, although even if they had it on, he would still stick out like a sore thumb among them, with the bright red coat and chaps with cowboy boots.

The dinner is mostly Nero chatting with the two. Dante already heard about them. Heard how Nero missed them. How long it had been since he was sent to serve in that village, miles and miles away from home, away from anyone familiar. He knew the loneliness that lodged deep in Nero’s heart that he searched for in Credo and Kyrie – it was through no fault of their own that Nero was sent away. It was the higher up. Sanctus, or whoever, and Nero’s passiveness, that allowed it to happen.

“So Dante.” Credo’s voice comes clear and plucks up Dante’s head from his bowl of soup he’d been staring into.

“Father Credo?” Dante asked. He smiled a bit.

“You’ve been in the village for a while, Nero says.”

“About a month or so.”

“You’ve been sleeping in his house?”

“Yeah.” Dante nodded. “He’s real hospitable… I hear you Sparda-types are real… charitable.”

“Sparda types?”

“Worshippers and stuff like that.” Dante replied. “You send Nero out into the middle of nowhere and he still keeps giving and giving what little he has.”

“We go where the Lord sends us.” Credo replied.

“Hmm. I just go where the money is.”

Credo only raised a brow at that. “Will you be staying long?” Credo asked.

“Not really. Maybe a few more days or a week?”

This seemed to surprise Nero a bit, more than anything, who cast a glance to Dante.

Of course, he should’ve known Dante would leave at some point, but hearing it… finally began to let it sink into his head.

“What?” Dante asked when Nero glanced.

“Nothing.” Nero replied. “I didn’t know you were done.”

“What exactly is it that you do?” Credo asked.

“Demon hunting. Mostly.” Dante nodded.

He seemed mildly surprised. Dante could figure. When he first met Nero, they had long talks about how it was bad to be a devil hunter, how in reality the church felt that using devil weapons made you a devil yourself, or a sinner for interacting with it.

“I see. You uh…”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring weapons into your house.” Dante assured them both. “Nor in Nero’s. He made me put them outside when he first let me in… But the devil’s are done with. Just have to clean up any residual mess, pack up, and leave.”

“You know, they say Sparda was the only one who could truly close the gates into the demon world.”

“So I hear.” Dante decides not to elaborate or roll his eyes, he has to have restraint after all.

“So… will you be coming back?” Nero asked.

“Of course. Probably. I made a friend after all.”

Dante smiled at Nero, warm and mischievous enough to make Nero glance away and turn pinkish with embarrassment.

“That’s good. Nero’s been needing a friend.” Credo remarked.

“Gee, thanks. Why don’t we post ads that I’m looking for friends?”

“He’s written to us every day ever since he was moved out there. They finally installed phone lines so he could call us.”

Nero just looks pinker with embarrassment, although he tries to laugh it off with a scoff.

Dante puts his arm on Nero’s back.

“Well, I think we’re getting along fine.” Dante’s hand travel’s down to the curve of Nero’s ass. The other two don’t see, so he gives it a nice squeeze, enough to make Nero twitch a bit. “I’ll be sad to go… although I have a feeling I’ll be coming back.”

“Oh?” Kyrie looked him over. “Well, with your profession… I worry the implication.”

“I would think you should. And I’d advise you guys to stay safe… There’s a demon out there… you know, you’ve probably heard this story, but Sparda was a demon –”

“That’s a misconception.” Credo interjected. “He was dressed as one. It concealed who he really was. In the old text it is said he had a human form.”

“Oh yes, yes…” Dante nodded in agreement, trying to bite back a smarmy tone. “And a demon form as well… anyway, I hear there are devils out there. Ones that look for Sparda in the flesh. They want to whisk him away. They say his devil form sometimes appear in humans… kind of like Nero’s devil arm.”

The room grew tense and quiet. Nero straightened up, clutching his arm, and looked away.

“Ah, it’s nothing to worry about.” Dante waved his hand. “I’m sure it’s just a rumor. Of course, Sparda was considered a knight, and a King, if a devil ever tried to steal the human Sparda… they’d probably just worship him like a King again.”

Dante looked to Nero, who was now practically hiding his face, trying not to look bright red.

“A literal devil’s worship.” Credo’s voice was cold. “What blasphemy.”

“The rumor has been going around though. I mean… _the second coming of Sparda_, what a wild idea… but, the devils out there, even if they’re all crazy, they do have brains… trust me, I know. And they think the Order of Sparda, and the priests and nuns… they all must be safeguarding that human Sparda.” Dante shrugged. “That’s what I hear, anyway… but, if anything like that happens, if anything crazy goes on, if you ever hear stories about missing priests and nuns –” Dante reached into his pocket, and tossed over a business card for Devil May Cry. “Feel free to give me a call.”

Credo glanced down, he looked at it like it was cursed. It was Kyrie who plucked it from the table, curious to read it.

“I’m sure we’ll… keep that in mind.” Credo remarked.

“You know.” Credo continued. “We were wary of you at first… there was supposed stories about you, before you came here… Dante. That you claimed to be the Son of Sparda.”

Dante smiled. “Well, what Nero told me, we’re all children of Sparda right? Worthy of his grace.”

“I suppose I heard you said so in literal terms.”

“Well, my dad’s name was Sparda, if that means anything, but, I hear in some countries, Sparda is a pretty common name. You know. People name themselves after their saviors. It’s culturally just… acceptable.”

“Is that the case with your father?”

“I dunno. Never asked him. He ran out on me. Haven’t seen him since I was seven.”

“I see.” Credo nodded his head. “I was misinformed about you then…”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to pity me. We all don’t have parents. I hear you all grew up in the same orphanage.” Dante gestured with his little finger while using the rest of his hand to hold a glass of water and taking it to his lips drinking it.

“All raised in the same church.” Kyrie chirped.

“That’s real nice…” Dante mused.

Another pause, Dante drinks deeply, Nero awkwardly shifted, grabbing Dante’s wrist and finally pulling his hand away from his ass.

“How long are you two staying in town?” Kyrie asked.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Nero admitted. “I came into town to… accompany Dante.”

“Well, you best get back to your parish. You are the only priest in that town.” Credo remarked.

“It’s a long train ride back.” Dante remarked. “Don’t you two ever visit?”

“We haven’t visited yet. Haven’t had a good day to go out there… Nero comes back for the holidays and festivals though.”

Dante nodded. “Well… I’ll be sure to try and visit again. Soon.” He gave Nero a wink.

Nero rolled his eyes.

“Anyway. We got any dessert? Not to spend my day complaining but Nero never has anything sweet to eat.”

The siblings seem to chuckle, unaware of how far Nero’s vow of poverty has really gone when surrounded by farmers with no money to even pay tithing with. They have panna cotta, covered with strawberries, and Dante practically wolfs down the thing whole. He swipes his finger along the plate to clean it, even asking Nero for some of his and eating off Nero’s spoon with a smile. Both Credo and Kyrie seem to exchange a glance over that.

The exchanges, Dante felt, after that were personally boring and useless, and he just keeps his hand firmly pressed on Nero’s ass, squeezing it, until Nero jolts at one time, and he laughs and casually pulls his hand away, making sure not to do so when it seems one of the others can see what he’s doing.

In what little they say, Dante figures he’s heard enough, although, even without their words, he made his decisions a long time ago.

Nero stumbles a little on the way out, like he’s drunk almost, but they hadn’t a drop to drink that whole night. Dante puts his hand on his shoulder, guiding him out to the short walk to their hotel, one they assured had two beds, and that Dante looked away whenever Nero changed. He laid it on a bit thick. Perhaps too thick. The longer the night went on the more Credo eyed him over and Kyrie awkwardly coughed.

Dante laid Nero down on the bed, smirking the whole time and seeing Nero’s face beam bright red.

“I cannot _believe_ I let you do that.”

“Neither can I. From what I saw it seems like your lovely friends have sticks up their asses too anyway.”

“You’re terrible.”

“You liked it.” Dante huffed. “Besides… you got good at telling yourself to keep your dick soft. What do you think of to keep it down?”

“I think of your terrible jokes.”

Dante laughed.

“Take your clothes off.”

Nero shivered. In an instant Dante shifts from that casual amused self to serious and stern. It’s never scary, Dante’s casualness never goes away, it calms him down, but he knows a balance between having fun and getting things done.

Nero pulls off his cassock, laying it neatly, folding it on the side, and ungloves his hand, looking at his deformed devil arm. He carefully slides his underwear off, and Dante comes close and pulls his socks off as well. There’s that similar small string that hangs down on Nero’s thigh. Dante pulls, and Nero jerks and whimpers.

“I cannot believe I did that.” Nero murmured again.

“You’re the one that wanted the beads. You could’ve just had the little bullet vibe.”

“And have you click the remote while I’m talking? Over my dead body.”

Dante chuckled. “You’re right… I’d love to see how Credo would react to your shrieking in the middle of dinner. Maybe you could just say the food was so good it was giving you an orgasm.”

“You would like that. You’re filthy that way.”

“I know. You’re filthy too.” Dante kissed his neck. “It’s really hot. Now lay down and pull it out.”

Nero breathed, and slid back into bed, and once again pulled the blanket over his chest, even though he was exposing his cock. Dante supposed he was still so shy about his body.

“Think you can do it?” Dante asked.

Nero nodded. His face flushed, but he was determined. He slid his hand between his legs, fumbling to grasp that small string, his head tilted back, looking to the ceiling.

“Don’t you want to see what you’re doing?”

“… I can do it.” Nero murmured. “… I might cum if I do.”

“I would love to see you cum just from watching yourself.”

Nero scoffed. He finally grasp the thread, and pulled. His legs jerked, he nearly kicked Dante, and stuttered a ‘Sorry’ out, while Dante chuckled.

He remembered how painstakingly Dante pushed one at a time into him, Nero felt so full, he came twice during that whole time and each new bead Dante introduced he simply grinned and said ‘only one more, only one more…’ Nero felt like he had a million stuffed inside him. He felt like he shouldn’t have said he could take it, and when Dante started massaging his ass at dinner he shuddered at how they felt inside him, twisted up inside.

Shameful. He could hear Credo’s voice saying that about him. Shameful. He could think about the day his devil arm came in, the look of disgust, the feel of rejection, as everyone eyed his horrible mutation of what had once been his human hand, now like that of a lizard, or a dragon – or a demon. The burn of holy water under his scales, in his fingernails, screaming –

He tried not to think about it anymore. Instead he thought of Dante seeing his arm for the first time. How he gasped, audibly, the only time Dante ever showed surprise, and he held Nero’s hand, stroking the back of it, touching those surgical scars and whispering ‘how could they do this’ and softly he grasped his hand and kissed it.

He wasn’t ashamed anymore. Every day after he was growing less and less ashamed, and Dante would bring it out of him for better or worst.

“You’re really stubborn usually.” Dante remarked, watching Nero hold on the string. “What’s wrong? Are you really nervous this time? I can do it for you…”

Nero glanced down. He exhaled. He kept squeaking and squirming and yelping and felt those bead pull into him harder. He needed to relax. Nero exhaled again, and shut his eyes, legs spread, and gave a firm pull.

Then he jolted, and yelped again, Dante grinned. One bead surfaced, and sunk back in after Nero clenched down so tightly on it. Nero lost the string and fumbled for it in the bedding, before Dante reached between his legs and grabbed it for him, putting it back in Nero’s hand.

“Come on. You can do it.”

Nero pulled hard, twisting and squirming, finally pulling one out of himself and gasping at the sensation. He felt all the other beads pulling, some barely brushing at his sweet spots, and he groaned. The next one comes out easier. And the next, and the next. He stops to catch his breath, marveling at the sensation of discomfort mixed with pleasure. It was new, and bizarre, and he wanted more and more.

He kept pulling, whimpering, wincing, each one coming out until finally all twelve beads were out and on the bed, and Nero was gasping, tears against at his eyes, and drool at his mouth.

“Good… good boy.” Dante remarked.

Nero was gasping, barely able to respond.

“You know, there’s people who do this sort of thing with prayer beads.”

“That’s vile.” Nero huffed.

“I know. Some of them even wash em off and keep wearing it.”

Nero shuddered. “Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not being gross. Just honest.” Dante leaned over, and kissed Nero’s navel. Nero sighed, wanted that mouth on his rock hard prick, but Dante wouldn’t. He told Dante. Technically masturbation isn’t against the vow of chastity. Just sex. So it wasn’t sex. This wasn’t sex. That’s what Dante said. Mutual masturbation. That’s all. Just getting each other off.

I can do some charity of my own and help an aching Father out.

Nero still shuddered with fantasies of that first night he finally did it with someone, something sexual, let someone see his skin and was not afraid, but excited, so excited, to also see Dante naked as well.

“You ready for that big toy?”

Dante had pulled out the vibrator, shaped like a cock, a soft pink color, and a longer than Dante, thinner as well. Nero’s eyes widened. He couldn’t. He’d scream his guts out and he could just feel it. It was too big.

“That thing will split me in half.” Nero huffed.

“What? This?” Dante looked it over. “This was the smallest one I could find.”

Nero scoffed at the thought.

“It’s true. They make some huge things you know. People love playing with size down there.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” Nero huffed. “Let’s just… stick with the small one.”

Dante smirked. “All right.

“M… Maybe some other time.” Nero stuttered out.

“Relax. We’ll get there when we get there. Let’s get this bad boy out.” Dante found the vibrating bullet he left near the sink, cleaned off well before they left, wrapped in a towel, and returned with it, and the remote in tow.

Nero did it himself, pushing the small thing inside, and Dante clicked the remote on. Nero rolled his hips, and turned onto his stomach, knees in the bed, his legs spread, face buried in the pillows, and he moaned, rubbing his aching cock again, jerking it quick and fast and cumming on the sheets.

He didn’t stop. He asked Dante to turn it higher, and he groaned and bites the pillow, devil hand clawing more and more at the bed, his other hand refusing to stop. It felt too good. Everything felt so so good. He jerked off until he felt sweat clinging to his skin, and tousled in his pale white hair, between his thighs and armpits, rolling his shoulders, his cock twitching until it ached. Dante cranked the toy a bit higher, and Nero yelped again and came, sliding flat on the bed. Dante didn’t shut the toy off, Nero didn’t want to say to stop, he wanted to keep going, even if he wasn’t sure he could. He just uselessly humped the soft blankets, rubbing his cock on them, and Dante smiled and smiled, playing with the remote, setting it on high again and then twisting it down. He watched Nero jerk into the sheets and moan again, that sensual beautiful sound.

Dante stroked himself, watching Nero hump the blankets, letting it slide between his thighs, and watching Nero’s face screw up as he cried out.

Dante fantasizes, the thought of being on Nero, between his legs, pushing inside him. How tight he must feel. How tight he must be to struggle to pull those beads out. What sort of feeling he would have, pinned to each other, hips rolling, nipping at his skin and moaning hot breath against him.

Nero whimpered slight, he achingly rubbed between his legs while he humped the blankets, lost in the sensation, and he tried to orgasm, frustrated as he continued to rub with no release. Dante grinned, watching and keeping his eyes half-lidded.

He stripped himself nude, giving Nero a show to watch as well, his own release, and he played with the remote in his other hand, letting Nero have it.

“Nero…” He panted soft. “Tell me your fantasy.”

“…W-what…?” Nero gasped out.

“Your fantasy.” Dante urged. “Something nasty… something dark and filthy that used to turn you on… something you tried to stop fantasizing about with all your cold showers and praying.”

Nero swallowed thick. He buried his face in shame and quietly murmured. “I…” He goes silent, nervously stroking and then shutting his eyes and focusing on the feeling of the vibrator inside him.

“I… I used to fantasize… someone taking me… on the altar.” He whispered, shame is so deep it’s thick in his voice, trembling in his body.

“In the church?” Dante asked.

Nero nodded. “… D-during mass…” He whispered.

Dante ran a finger down Nero’s spin and watched him twitch, the frissons of his skin popping up, each bump of his spine rolling with Nero’s humping.

“Yeah?” Dante whispered. “You wanted people to watch?”

Nero buried his face fully.

“Yes…” His voice is so quiet Dante strains to hear it.

“You wanted someone to just take you, right there, in the middle of it all, people watching, your shame to see?” Dante asked. “Push it deep inside your ass and you’d feel them thrust so hard you could hear your skin slap? Pin your arms down and drench you in wine, stir you up inside and make you feel every single orgasm you denied yourself for several years?”

Nero nodded shamefully as his hand continued stroking his cock, face screwed up, whimpering as he thought once again of that perverted fantasy, now filled with Dante’s descriptions.

“You took fingers so well, you know, I wonder how you’d take a cock… I bet it’d take a bit of prep. I can imagine them spreading you out… maybe ripping your pretty white dress. _Deflowering_ you? Isn’t that right, Father Nero? You’d be taken for the first time… right there in front of your loving congregation…”

Nero buried his face, and Dante could see it was bright red. He jerked the remote up higher, watching Nero achingly stroke his tired cock, trying to cum one last time, Dante spoke filthy words to Nero of being railed on the altar, communion wine spilled all over him, consecrated by sin and filth, cum spilled deep inside him and Nero buried his face harder and whimpered at his hellish aching, wishing he could cum, but he tortured himself through the aching, his cock finally twitching again after a long couple of minutes.

Dante came first, groaning loud and satisfied, having some of it hit Nero’s thigh. Nero finally came as well after those few hellish minutes, and Dante genuinely marveled at that, how he could cum so much and so eagerly, how his face turned bright red, and his thighs were red as well. He slumped over, collapsing, gasping for air. Dante shut off the vibrator, quickly pulling it out with a tug of the string, and watching Nero shudder. He set it aside on the bed.

As Nero lay panting on the bed, gazing up at Dante, tears welled in his eyes, shining slick on his cheeks.

“S-sorry.” He murmured.

“Don’t be.” Dante whispered and leaned over, kissing him soft along the jaw, and wiping his tears away. “You know I think you look fantastic like this.”

“… I’m sorry I can’t stop crying every time we do it…” He whispered and when Dante leaned in he eagerly wrapped his arms tight around Nero, sniffling, burying his face.

“You can’t help it. I’m just happy you feel so good anyway.”

Nero nodded solemnly. He knows how slow it was, only a month ago he didn’t think anything of sex, he tried to think of anything but that, and now Dante had touched him, and he felt it deep, deep inside himself, aching for it.

Dante climbed over, and laid in bed with him, pulling Nero to his chest, naked and sweaty and slick with cum on their thighs, and they held each other. Nero loved how it felt to be held as he slept, how he ached for it, those touches Dante gave him, that for Dante seemed so casual and lovely.

Nero wrapped his arms around Dante’s neck and buried his face in his chest.

“… Are you really going soon?”

Dante nodded, his chin against Nero’s head.

“Yeah.” He whispered.

“… And you will come back?”

“Of course.”

“Soon?”

Dante raised his brows. “I… I don’t know. Hopefully.”

Nero sighed.

“I wish I was ready. For so many things.”

“You have to take your time.”

“I suppose… I guess you’re right, in the end, I don’t have much here.”

“But it’s home, isn’t it? I don’t want you to leave home. Not until you want to.”

Nero buried his face into Dante’s neck.

This was all he ever had. To leave it for someone else… to sin, to defile himself, to be unholy. Well, he already was unholy wasn’t he? He looked upon his devil hand that clasped at Dante’s shoulder in their embrace. Burned and burned. How Dante looked at it with pain in his eyes, how Dante showed Nero horns on his head, and then spikes, and then his arms, and his body, his wings.

The Devil that Dante was.

Nero nearly fainted. He was terrified, the descriptions in the books, of demons and devils, of Sparda, and his conquest of the devils. Dante had left him with mixed feelings and an unease stomach for a while now. It left him thinking. It made him question his faith. And when he realized it, he knew it was not that he have no faith, but merely wondered what he should have it in.

That was when he touched Dante. Felt his skin. The scales, the claws – oh, they were like his own. That pain, that fear, that misery, the praying he sought God to answer, instead answered by a man in red – no, he was not a sin, he was not a monster, nor was he becoming one. He was not alone.

“When you come back… I hope I’ll be ready.”

“I know I’ll be ready.” Dante smiled, and kept his arms tight. “But later… later… let’s just focus on now…”

They held each other, petting their hair, feeling their naked skin, embracing, Nero feeling that ache deep inside him, satisfied by this touch, if not addicted to it by now, and he shut his eyes, dreaming, wishing, foolishly, that now would stay, and later would never come.

* * *

Three months after Dante left, the first attack happened.

In the cold winter, there was no snow, just rain, and wind, and dark, dreary grey skies. It was then that missing Dante ached more, that wishing someone was in his bed, to hold him, to warm him, began to sting. He hadn’t used the toys Dante left him, but his mind raced, he fantasized often about the things they did together. He felt lonelier than ever before, even the heater couldn’t chase away the ache for intimacy he now was left with.

Then the attack. The Priest had been walking alone in the street, when he was ‘attacked’. Not really. He’d been pinned to the ground by a demon, strong enough to scratch his clothes up, dirtying that pristine white fabric. He swore it breathed fire, and had horns and claws and sharp teeth. It was like a dragon. For a while nobody really knew what to think, he looked hardly scratched, and not injured. Nobody believed him.

Then it happened again. This time slamming through the church doors, attacking the priest, pinning him to the floor, and the demon hissed, and this time the priest heard him say something.

“You are not the one.”

There were witnesses, the Priests from all over were forced to discuss the matter, another devil returning. Every morning Father Nero was tasked to sprinkle salt around the outside of the church, and bless more holy water for people’s protection.

The holidays were soon, but everyone was still on edge. It was a time to reflect on Sparda and his teachings. Nero planned the day with no real fear in his heart. He organized his sermon and his speech. He sat in his empty bedroom, contemplating his words, and contemplating Dante over and over again.

* * *

The holy day came, and Nero did his rites, his communion was passed, and he spoke, blessing everyone, and speaking that day of Sparda, the devil, and what his body represented, what it meant to them, why they took these days in joy, and in good faith.

Most of his talk is drowned with the sound of rain pouring. The sky was so grey it was like it was nighttime in the afternoon. The wind howled on the stony church, the inside was dark, illuminated by the flame of prayer candles, and small flickering lights barely withstanding their poor electric wires being whipped in the wind.

It came.

The stained glass images of Sparda lay within the dome of the apse, and collapsing, rained shards down on Nero. Thunder boomed, and the glass was joined by rain, pouring on him. Nero curled up, cuts on his body, and his cassock wet and stuck to his skin.

What came through was a monster.

A large bi-pedal creature, long leathery wings, glistening red, bright horns, long claws, scaled and sharp teeth, glowing hot magma-yellow eyes. It stood planted before the altar.

The congregation looked on in muted horror, planted in their seats.

Nero stood back up, hearing screaming, more thunder, the rain spilled through the broken window, showering the candles, turning to wisps of smoke and darkness. Lightning flashed, glistening purple light shined on the rainwater, and vanished fast.

The devil pins Nero to the altar.

Nero’s arm, so mutilated by surgery and holy water, began to glow. Bright, electric blue. Tinged with red.

“_You… the Spawn of Sparda…”_ The demon growled in a dark malignant voice.

Some of the people had the right mind and bolted, others curled up in their pews, cowering, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Nero said nothing. He just stares, head tilted back, as the devil pushes him there. Finally he elicits a gasp when the devil lays itself atop him, feeling that red hot heat that it’s body emanated.

It’s claws tore at his wet cassock, rain continued to shower down on them. Nero shuddered, grasping at the altar. The devil continued, grabbing his deformed devil hand, squeezing it until Nero felt it, feeling those claws touch him, and feeling the devil growl, it rumbled deep in his chest, and Nero could feel it on his shoulders.

A brave member grabbed handfuls of holy water from the font, and threw it into the devil’s face shouting begone devil! And the devil reeled back, the rain quickly washing the burning liquid away, but it still shouted and hissed, grabbing the man by his coat and tossing him to the ground.

“Do not hurt them.” Nero commanded, turning around to face the devil.

The devil looked down, the other human man dazed but stumbled away and eventually ran off.

“_The Human Sparda is mine_.” It hissed, and it’s claws sank into Nero’s sides, staining his cassock with dots of blood at his hips.

It’s leathery wings stretch out, snapping down, and up it goes, taking Nero with it, crashing through another stained glass window. The power of its flight sends rainwater everywhere, sends a sharp gust of wind through the church, and with that all the lights go out, and the candles extinguish, the church left in darkness, nothing to light the way out, but the lightning that flashes along the stained glass images of Sparda.

* * *

“Did you really have to break two windows?” Nero huffed.

“I couldn’t see.” Dante admitted. “I had glass in my eyes.”

“And did you have to rip my clothes? And pin me to the altar?”

“You said you’d like that.”

“Not exactly the best time.” Nero huffed. “I thought you said this form doesn’t last a long time.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then what were you thinking?”

“Someone doesn’t sound very happy to be saved, _Human Sparda_.”

“Oh shush. That was your idea.”

Dante chuckled. The rain gets in his eyes, but he flies as far as he can, and rests in an open field where it is mostly drizzling. He takes his human form, drenched in rain water, and looking Nero over, smiling and laughing to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Nero huffed.

“Nothing… you seem upset.”

“… I’m just nervous.” Nero admitted.

“About what?” Dante asked. “I told you yesterday. I set it up _all_ that time ago. Credo will hear about this, he’ll call me, I’ll ‘save’ you, and you have _so much fun_ living with me you don’t come back.”

“… What if I want to come back here?” Nero asked.

Dante raised a brow, and then he snorted. “What? You think I’m gonna hold you hostage?”

Nero huffed. He supposed that was a stupid thought.

“I guess I didn’t think about things… what am I gonna do? I’ve never lived in the mainland. I don’t have any money. I don’t have anything to give you –”

“So?” Dante pet Nero’s hair back smoothing it with rain. “I can manage. You can figure it out when you get there.”

“What about helping your business? Maybe I could do that?”

“One thing at a time, lover boy. Enough thinking. More doing.”

Nero could agree with that. The overthinking was weighing him down too much to focus.

After Dante had his rest he picked Nero up, and spread his wings once more, flying past the fields, and Nero glanced back at the small town, at the church, and then he looked away and just held onto Dante.

He landed them in the forest, it wasn’t raining much, barely a drizzle, and the trees kept the forest floor mostly dry. Dante sighed, landing them by some containers. Two suitcases. Everything Nero owned fit in them both with room to spare.

“Come on.” Dante picked one suitcase up, and then the other. “Trish has the boat running, we gotta walk the rest of the way.”

Nero walked, asking Dante if he could carry something but Dante assured him it was fine. They were light. Indeed they were. Barely anything inside them, clothes, the bible, photos, his favorite blanket, a pillow, the toys Dante gave him, and little else.

“Sorry I took so long.” Dante remarked, walking through the damp forest.

“… I think you took long enough. I had begun to miss you.”

Dante smiled. “So… Do I still have to call you Father Nero?”

“Only if you want to.” Nero replied, rolling his eyes.

Dante grinned.

Nero feels a strange lightness as the descent the hill of the forest, down towards the ocean, and he sees the boat out far from the shore. He wondered if they’d have to swim out there, but Dante merely told Nero to hold on, and grasping him, Dante took that devil form once again, and carried them, this time surprisingly gentle as they landed.

There was a strange looking woman, blond hair, and in a tight black top that barely covered her, and tight pants, somehow tighter than Dante’s pants.

“That everything?” she asked.

“Yep.” Dante said. “Everything important.”

Important.

The word sticks in Nero’s mind for a second.

“All right. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve got a lot to do back home.”

“Don’t we all?” Dante said with a smile.

The wind is cold and whips at them as the boat takes off. Nero had never been in a boat without a sail, one with an engine as fast as this one. Fortuna didn’t need boats like that. Boats that could take you out of the country. Nero looked up at Dante, reaching out to hold his hand with his devil hand, barely able to feel as Dante grasped it, smiling when Dante took it and kissed it.

They stood at the edge of the boat, watching the scenery fall away, the image of that forest, that shoreline, then the isle of Fortuna itself, of his home, as well as his worries, his nerves, his loneliness, shrinking, shrinking, fading on the horizon in a haze of gray clouds, until it was insignificant, and finally, gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Does this feel like it wasn’t beta read? Good, it wasn’t, so it should read that way. I write these things and then throw them up here with a winded sigh of ‘fuck it’ while posting so I don’t proofread what took me 30 hours to write and it sits here fresh as can be, my horny, unproofed filth for the world to see.
> 
> If you liked it, feel free to give a kudos, comment, blah blah blah, thanks for reading, ya horny bastard.


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